Blackout
by LSMunch
Summary: This is just great. Stuck in an elevator, in the middle of summer, in the middle of a blackout, with Benson. And now she wants to ask questions.


A/N: Not mine and this takes place during that huge blackout a few years back.

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"Ever wish you'd picked a different job?"

"What?" His eyes are closed, head resting against the wall of the elevator. One leg is stretched out while the other bent, his arm resting on it. His tie is loosened, the first couple buttons on his shirt are undone and his sleeves are rolled up.

"I said, did you ever wish you hadn't become a cop?" She's in roughly the same position, at least, he thinks she is. He can't be sure for the darkness that has swallowed them.

"Yeah, when I look at my partner." It comes out of his mouth before he realizes he's even thought it.

"Seriously, Munch. C'mon."

He sighs. _This is just great. Stuck in an elevator, in the middle of summer, in the middle of a blackout, with Benson. And now she wants to ask questions._ _Do I really want to be honest?_ "Yeah."

She detects a hint of sadness in his voice. "What would you have done, if you hadn't been a cop?"

He shrugs, knowing she can't see him in the darkness. "Journalist, maybe. I don't really know."

She looks towards where she knows him to be sitting. "Journalist, huh?" There's the sound of laughter in her voice.

"Yeah, journalist. Why, what about you?" he counters.

Now it's her turn to shrug. She can remember a shrink asking her that question once, and the answer is still the same. "I don't know." The laughter in her voice just seconds before is replaced by uncertainty and...

_And longing,_ he realizes. _She wants to know what else she can do in this world, besides being a sex crimes detective._ Changing the now touchy subject, he asks, "What's your favorite color?"

"Blue," she answers without hesitation.

"You're so typical," he scoffs.

"Typical? What makes you say that?"

"It's a proven fact that women are more attracted to blue and men are more attracted to red. Ever notice how the president always wears a red or blue tie?"

"I always thought he was just trying to be patriotic."

He snorts in laughter and disbelief. "Nope. More like trying to get people to actually listen to him."

"Well, then, if you're so smart, what's your favorite color?"

"I don't have one."

"Oh, come on. Everyone has a color they like more than the others."

"I don't have one," he repeats. "I prefer not to favor one over the others. It's not fair to the browns and puke greens of the world."

She can't help but laugh and he can't help but enjoy the sound. "Fair enough. What's your favorite season?"

"Other than being stuck in an elevator, why are we playing twenty questions?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. Now, come on, answer the question."

"Spring."

"Why?"

"Don't I get to ask you your favorite season first?"

"Fine, summer. Now, why?"

He sits there for a moment, looking towards the ceiling and wondering if he wants to tell her. "It's hope. Spring... spring is hope." She doesn't say anything. "What about you? Why do you like summer?"

"The kids are home, running through the parks. They're happy, no worries of school. Just free."

He laughs quietly as she says this.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just... back in Baltimore, one year, some genius number cruncher had the brilliant idea that the midnight shift didn't need air conditioning in the summer. I remember one night in particular we were all in the squad room, waiting for that damn phone to ring so we could go outside, where it was cooler by ten degrees, at least. Didn't get a single call. When it was time for us to go home in the morning, the air conditioning came on. Sitting in a squad room with ten other guys in the sweltering heat isn't exactly the best way to spend a night." He laughs again. "You know, this day probably ranks right up there with that night."

"You mean you rather be stuck in here with Fin? Or Cragen?" Olivia jokes.

"Oh, God, what'd you say that for? Now I got a picture... ugh..."

Olivia laughs. "I don't even want to know what's in that head of yours right now."

"You're right, you don't." He groans again, this time for show. "Just... wrong. On so many levels." Shaking his head he asks, "Whose turn is it?"

"Mine, I think." She paused for a minute, thinking of a question. "Got one. What's your favorite book?"

"You want me to actually choose? Do you have any idea how many books I've read? Well, if you're sure... does it have to be one?"

"Yes, now answer the question!"

"What if I don't? Will you go bad cop on my ass?"

"Yes."

"Promise or threat?"

"Threat."

"Ooo... I like that in a woman."

She broke down laughing and he wished he could see her face. "Answer the question, John."

"What was it again?"

"I think you're beginning to get Alzeihmer's there, old man."

"You have a name, don't you? Yes, you do, what is it?"

"C'mon, answer the question."

He sighed. "Fine. The Big Book of Conspiracies. Satisfied now?"

"I should've known you'd say something like that," she groaned.

"Yes, you should've, but you asked anyway. Favorite movie."

"Now you're going to make me choose one? I suppose 'Return To Me'."

"What's the real reason you like that? Interesting, somewhat sappy plot that makes a good chick flick or the fact that David Duchovny is the main character?"

"Both. And you stole my question."

"All's fair in love and war."

"Which category does twenty questions fall under?"

"I haven't decided yet. When we get out of this place I'll let you know."

"Okay. Favorite kind of music."

"Classic rock." She laughed at this, which earned her an indignant, "What?"

"Now _I've_ got a picture in my head."

"Of what?"

She shook her head, still laughing. "You playing the drums and head banging."

"Hey, that's a hell of a lot better than the picture of Cragen you sent me. Geez, that was _bad_." He listened to her laugh fade, slowly tapering off until the only thing he could hear was their breathing. _Stop it, John,_ he scolded himself. _Just ask her a damn question._ "When was the last time you watched Saturday morning cartoons?"

He imagined a faint blush coming to her cheeks as she said, "This past weekend. How about you?"

"Weekend before that."

"Guess we're just a couple of middle aged freaks, huh?"

"No, just revisiting a childhood that we never really had." She was silent immediately and he knew he shouldn't have said that. _Good going, John, ruining a perfectly good conversation._ "Liv, I'm sorry. I-"

"No, no it's fine. You're right, anyway. Kinda makes up for all those Saturday mornings I was taking care of my mother. It's fine." He could tell it wasn't, but she plowed on with, "What was the most embarrassing gift you ever received?"

"You sure you wanna ask that?"

"Fairly, yes."

"You're in for it now... leopard print Speedo bathing suit." He chuckled as she groaned.

"That's... that's just..." She groaned again and he laughed.

"I told you."

"Just... just ask another question."

"Which do you prefer: Tom or Jerry?"

"That's the best you can come up with?"

"Hey, my question. Answer it."

"Jerry."

He snorted. "You're so typical."

"What?"

"Everyone likes Jerry. The cute little mouse who always bests the dumb, hungry cat."

"I take it you like Tom?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do. Always continues to go after Jerry, no matter how many times he gets hit on the head and whatnot. Good role model for those wishing to always persevere."

"It's a cartoon and he always loses."

"You're missing the bigger point. No matter how many times he gets knocked down, he always gets back up. Isn't there something in that you admire? Something that you find in yourself?"

She was quiet and he wished he hadn't made it personal again. Cursing himself, he said, "I didn't mean to dull the conversation again."_ Lame, John, lame._

"You really think I always get back up?"

He shrugged, knowing full well she couldn't see him. "Yeah. I mean, how many cases have we had that you just keep going, even if Cragen tells you not to. Even if it means putting your career, your life, on the line. You keep going."

"And you admire me for that?"

"I didn't say that-"

"Yes, you did. You said you admired Tom for always getting back up, then you said you saw that in me. That means-"

"Fine, fine, you caught me. Guess that's the only time Tom will ever best Jerry, huh?"

She smiled. "Yeah, guess so." They were both quiet for a moment, then she said, "My question, right?"

"Think so."

"Have you ever read Harry Potter?"

"She makes fun of me because I ask about Tom and Jerry, yet she asks about Harry Potter." He shook his head. "Yes, as a matter of fact I have."

"All of them?"

"Yes, all of them. When one has a nephew that is a Harry Potter fanatic, one must at least know what said nephew is babbling on about. How about you?"

"I only got halfway through the first one."

"Shame on you, Olivia. Can't even finish a book my seven year old nephew finished in three days."

"What's your nephew's name?"

"Ben. Spitting image of his father, too. Looks just like Bernie at that age. Damned smart, too. Once you get the kid hooked on a subject, he won't shut up about it."

"Must get that from his uncle."

"Hey, I resemble that remark." She laughed and he continued. "Once I told him the whole story about the Kennedy assassination and a few theories. Next time I visited him, he gave me a better debate on the subject than I've had in years. Kid's like a sponge. You gotta watch what you say around him, otherwise he might learn something you rather him not know about. That's why he only knows I'm a cop. He thinks I'm in the robbery division and that I wear a uniform all the time because Bernie showed him a picture of me when I walked a beat in Baltimore. God, that was more than thirty years ago." He was quiet for a moment before, "So, how do you like the idea of being stuck in an elevator with an old geezer like me?"

"You're not that old."

"Yeah? You think so? In about seven years, department's gonna force me to retire. You do the math."

"Fifty-five isn't old. You probably have thirty, forty years ahead of you. That's almost a lifetime."

"Yeah, almost." In the quiet that fell between them then, he noticed again the temperature and desperately wanted to take his shirt off in some vain effort to get cooler. He wondered how Olivia was faring. "Hey, is it just me, or is it a tad above freezing in here?"

"It's sweltering. Like being in a sauna."

"Last time I ever get on an elevator."

"Yeah." Then, "You know, if we tried, I bet we could get out of here."

"Didn't we just go over my age?"

"No, I'm serious."

"So am I."

"If we can open the door-"

"How? You forget, I'm not Elliot, I'm not even Fin or Cragen. Heavy lifting is not my job. I've got the brains, not brawn."

"Then we can see if maybe we're almost on a floor and we can get outta here."

"Why can't we just sit here?"

"Because I'm hot and don't fancy being stuck in here until either someone comes to rescue us, or the power comes back on. We can do it, John."

He couldn't bring himself to shoot down her idea yet again. "Fine, we'll try." They each felt their way to the door and then stood up. "So, we each gonna pull a separate half, or one half together?"

"One half together. Come over here." He felt his way along the door until he felt her hand. She grasped his and guided him, placing his hands on the crack in the door. "I'll kneel down and pull at the bottom, you pull up there. Ready?"

"To pull muscles and break bones, yes, of course."

"One, two, three." They each pulled, John's feet slipping a bit on the floor. They were rewarded by the crack becoming a couple inches wider. "Stop." John gladly did, leaning against the wall behind him.

"Why are we doing this again?"

"So I'm not stuck with you for hours in here. As it is we've been here for a good while. I don't know why I didn't think of it before."

"I don't know why I didn't think of it before," he mimicked and she hit his leg. "Ow! And let's face it, you enjoy my company. Better than being stuck in here with Elliot."

"Shut up and get ready." Without asking if he was in place, she said, "Go." They pulled again, and this time it felt easier, if that was at all possible. This time, when she said, "Stop," the door was open almost a foot. "And you said you couldn't do anything heavy lifting."

"Yeah, I'd love to see you get up tomorrow after this. You won't be able to move your arms."

She shrugged. "Least I can get Elliot to do all my paperwork then." He heard her shift on the floor. "Hey, I think if we pull another foot we can get out of here. There's only a couple feet between the floor and the bottom of the elevator."

"Really?"

"Don't sound so surprised my idea actually worked."

"See, I was hedging my bet on the fact that we'd be in the middle of the shaft and could continue our game of twenty questions." He was only half joking, and wondered is she knew that.

"After this is all over, I'll take you to dinner and you can ask all the questions you want. Now, come on, one more pull should do it." She went back to her position and he braced himself against the wall as she said, "Pull." He let go before she said 'stop'. "You okay?" she asked, stopping as well.

"I think my hand got a little ripped up on that last one. I don't think my hand's wet from water."

"Well, I think we might be able to get out. It's a good thing you're skinny."

"You know, I'm hardly ever complimented on that."

"Might be the last time, too. You wanna go first?"

"Ladies first."

She snorted. "I won't say anything about that."

"Good. Go." Flipping onto her stomach, she slid herself down until she felt the floor, then pulled what was left of her body out of the elevator.

"C'mon, it's easy."

Following her example, he did the same, though a bit of maneuvering was needed to accommodate his shoulders. Finally, they were both out and standing in the dark hallway. "Tell me why our flashlights are in the car."

"Because we're stupid and didn't bring them. But let me tell you, I'm never leaving mine in the car again."

"So we're going blindly to the stairs then down the stairs? Perfect. This day just keeps getting better and better. We got a first aid kit in the car?"

"Think so. Your hand okay?"

"I can't see it, therefore I couldn't really tell you."

"Then let's go, you really need to get it bandaged up." They made their way down the hallway to the stairs and then carefully down them. Luckily, they were on the second floor and didn't have that many stairs to traverse. When they were finally in the lobby, John was able to look at his hand.

"Yeah, I'd say maybe even a trip to the hospital, much as I hate the places."

She stopped and looked down at his hand. "Yeah, I'd say so."

As they continued to the door that would lead them to the car and more importantly the light, he asked, "So, do you think I'll be able to get Fin to do my paperwork?"

She laughed and shook her head as she pushed the door open and they walked into the sunlight.


End file.
